


Touch

by RemindMeWhoIAm



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Amputation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Porn with Feelings, no violence, not sexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 23:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16105661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemindMeWhoIAm/pseuds/RemindMeWhoIAm
Summary: Nate and Curie finally come to an understanding.





	Touch

    Nate clenched his jaw as Curie pulled the stitches tight, trying not to wince and make her job more difficult.  She had offered to use a stimpak on him, but they were running low and he didn’t want to waste them. The gash across his forehead hurt like hell but it wasn’t going to do any real damage besides scarring.

    “There,” she said, grabbing her scissors and snipping. “Ten altogether.  Quite impressive.”

    “I’ll add it to my list of accomplishments,” Nate replied, feeling along the repaired stretch of skin.  Curie slapped his hand away.

    “Would you like an infection?” she scolded, glaring at him.  Nate glared back.

    “I washed my hands.”

    “Ha!” she replied, grabbing his hand and spreading his fingers. “These things are filthy.  I would not trust them if --”

    Nate pulled his hand back. “I get the point,” he said, “Are we done here?”

    Curie gave him a rare dirty look. “We are done.”

    “Thank you,” Nate answered, heaving himself out of his chair as Curie began repacking her medkit.  His prosthetic locked before he managed to straighten completely, causing him to stumble. He swore under his breath and grabbed for the edge of the table to keep himself from falling on his face.

    “Are you alright?” Curie whipped around, the irritation in her face gone.  Nate grit his teeth and nodded.

    “Yeah,” he managed, voice strained.  He adjusted his stance and limped towards one of the beds in the corner, falling onto it heavily.  The springs squeaked under his weight, obnoxiously loud in the relative silence.

    After they -- or rather, Curie -- had dispatched the last of the Gunners, they’d holed up in one of the nearby safehouses, a place he’d found months back boarded up but mostly intact.  It wasn’t perfect, but it provided protection from the elements, mattresses instead of sleeping bags, and a place to hide from whatever might be following him.

    Curie still had her back to him, carefully cleaning, sorting, and organizing her supplies in the kit.  He leaned back a bit and swung his leg onto the mattress, muscles straining and burning. His hips and back ached and what was left of his right leg throbbed.  All in all, it had been a long, miserable day and not much of him  _ didn’t _ hurt.

    He rolled up his pant leg to inspect the joint and sighed inwardly.  Some of the pieces looked warped, which meant heading back to Sanctuary for Sturges’s help fixing it.

    “Is something wrong?”

    Nate jumped a bit when Curie spoke, her voice gentle in the darkened room.  He looked up to see her watching him, head tilted like a curious puppy.

    “Nothing that can be fixed tonight,” he replied, shrugging and rolling his pant leg back down.  He saw Curie follow his movements and the unspoken question in her eyes.

    “Four inches above the knee,” he said to her, “They saved a little bit of my femur.”

    “May I -- may I see?”

    Nate paused, taken aback by the question.  Curie’s eyes were wide with curiosity, the innocent kind normally seen in children.  His immediate reaction was to pull away, to tell her no, but it didn’t feel right to say no to that gentle, patient look.

    He nodded and shifted, moving to make room for her on the edge of the mattress.  She sat gingerly beside his outstretched leg, pushing the worn fabric of his pants back up so she could see.

    “I never got to observe patients in person,” she said softly, running her hands along the carbon fiber limb, ghosting along it as if the metal were sensitive like skin. “It is new to me, to see things that are not pictures or words.  To understand the -- the…”   


    She trailed off and shook her head. “I apologize for rambling.”

    “What were you going to say?” Nate asked, leaning toward her. 

    Curie sighed. “I do not have the right words,” she said with a bite of frustration, “It is the...the  _ human _ side of human anatomy.”

    She met his eyes and shrugged.  He nodded.

    “I know what you mean,” he said, “Working with a living person is...different.”

    Curie gave him a small smile. “Yes.”

    She moved her hands up the prosthetic to the knee joint, brow furrowed. “I know now what it is like, to have a body,” she said, voice still quiet and measured. “My knees ache from walking or squatting too long and I think...the pain of this sort of injury...how do people manage?”

    Nate felt his mouth go dry.  In reality, the physical pain had been the least of his problems.  Sure, he’d blamed a lot on the leg; it was an easy scapegoat and something people could mostly understand and accept.  Nora had accepted the excuse, or at least played along with it, not touching like he asked, not looking, pretending like the rift opening between them would heal when he did.  

    Curie sat up and pulled her hands away. “Thank you, Nathaniel,” she said, “I know my curiosity is...irritating sometimes.”

    Nate let out a laugh so unexpected that Curie jumped. “Curie, the least irritating thing about you is your curiosity.”

    “That is generous of you to say,” she replied, her smile widening. “But even I understand that bodies are -- are private.”

    She turned and made to stand, but Nate leaned forward and grabbed her hand. “Thank you.”

    “For what?”   


    He swallowed hard, mouth still dry. “For taking out that Gunner before he could do any more damage,” he said, gesturing to the gash on his forehead. “That was a great shot.”

    She nodded, suddenly looking somber.  Nate let go of her hand, afraid he had overstepped somehow or that she was seeing through his excuses.  He did want to thank her, but not just for saving his ass, or patching him up afterward, or only giving him a mild scolding for not using a stimpak.  He wanted to thank her for a lot of things he didn’t have words for yet.

    “I saw the blood and I thought you were dead,” she whispered, reaching up and touching her thumb to the stitches.  The touch made his head throb a bit, but her fingers were warm and soft, uncalloused, and his chest tightened.

    “Don’t touch,” he said, trying to laugh. “Wouldn’t want me to get an infection.”

    She bit her lip and trailed her hand down his face, along his unshaven cheek and he struggled to pull in a breath.  Nora used to bite her lip the same way, worrying it like a dog with a bone when she was thinking. Curie didn’t look like she was concentrating on something, though; she looked upset.

    “I was scared,” she admitted in a small voice, “You -- you are my very good friend, Nathaniel.  The thought of losing you…”

    She broke off and turned away, one hand going to her face. “I am -- I am sorry,” she stuttered, voice cracking. “These emotions -- they are so difficult to hold in --”

    Nate sat there, dumbfounded for a moment as her shoulders hitched and she let out a quiet sob.  It was true, Curie  _ did _ tend to get worked up easily over things, both good and bad, but this -- this felt different.

    “It’s alright, Curie,” he said, scooting forward to touch her arm. “You don’t have to apologize.  I’m the one that got us in that mess.”

    She turned and gave him a dark, stern look.  Tears streaked a path through the dirt on her cheeks and she looked tense.

    “You frustrate me so, Nathaniel Wilson!” she snapped suddenly, and Nate flinched.  Nora had told him the same thing not long before --  _ you drive me fucking crazy sometimes, Nate _ .

    Back then, he’d snapped that she was no picnic herself, a rejoinder he instantly regretted but had never apologized for.  Curie wasn’t Nora, but maybe he could salvage whatever it was they had.

    “I’m -- sorry,” he stammered, chest still tight. “I don’t mean to, Curie.”

    “I know that,” she replied, voice still sharp. “You  _ must  _ begin worrying about your own safety, because I love you!”

    Nate stared.  Curie looked as surprised by the confession as he felt.  Silence fell between them as Nate grasped for a suitable reply, but nothing came to him.  It was like his brain had stopped working temporarily and all he could come up with was  _ what? _

    “I love you,” she repeated finally, “I love you and I do not want to lose you before your time.”

    He grasped her hand and pulled her toward him. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m so sorry, Curie.”

    She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the side of his mouth, hands cupping his cheeks tenderly.

    “I love you,” she said again, whispering against his lips before claiming them eagerly.  The tight, hot feeling in Nate’s chest melted some and he wrapped his arms around her, dragging her up and into his lap.  Her legs dangled over the edge of the bed and she threaded her fingers through his hair, lips warm and soft. Nate pulled back a moment to draw a shaky breath and she tilted her head at him.

    “Is something wrong?” she asked, “Did I do something --”

    “No,” Nate interrupted, “No, you’re fine, Curie.”

    She smiled and kissed him again, mouth parting just enough to swipe her tongue along his lower lip.  He squeezed her closer, her small but sturdy frame melting against him. He hadn’t said it, but he knew what it was.  That tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe, that felt like something trying to claw its way out from between his ribs -- he hadn’t felt it in months, not since that last morning with Nora.

    He knew  _ that _ feeling, too, the one that suddenly made his clothing uncomfortable and his head spin as blood rushed away from it.

    “Mmm, Nathaniel,” Curie murmured against his lips, pulling away slightly.  He shifted and went to unseat her from his lap, as that jean-clad bottom was certainly not helping the situation.

    “I’m sorry,” he muttered, “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to --”

    “What is there to apologize for?” Curie replied, glancing down at his lap. “This -- this is a compliment, yes?”

    Nate swallowed hard. “That’s one way to put it,” he croaked, trying to steady his breathing. “But we don’t have to -- I mean, I’m not expecting anything from you.”

    She furrowed her brow and stared contemplatively for a moment. “I love you, Nathaniel,” she said, “Do you love me?”

    Nate breathed in and out once, slowly, and nodded. “I do, Curie.  I love you.”

    She smiled at him. “Then, I think, we are on the right track,” she murmured, placing her lips close to his ear. “I want to do this.”

    Nate closed his eyes as she kissed his earlobe, suppressing a shiver each time those soft lips touched his skin.  He smoothed his hands across her back, trying to ground himself as his heart thudded against his breastbone like a hammer on an anvil.  Nora had once made him feel the same way, like he was going to pass out, but he’d been eighteen-years-old then, barely out of high school, fumbling and stupid in his childhood bedroom.  He was grown man, married, had fathered a child -- why did a beautiful woman touching him still make him so damned nervous?

    Curie reached his collarbone and her hands slid up under his shirt, fingers skimming the planes of his stomach and chest.  He moved to remove her shirt, fumbling at the buttons, but she grabbed his hand and pulled away gently.

    “I -- I would like to do this,” she said quietly, not meeting his eyes. “I do not have experience.  May I -- explore?”

    Nate nodded silently and she grinned, blue eyes lighting up and meeting his.  She leaned in and kissed him again, nipping his bottom lip experimentally, and hummed happily when he squeezed her hips in response.  She slipped out of his lap for a moment and then clambered back on awkwardly, knees on either side of his hips this time, hands on his shoulders to balance herself.

    “Take it off,” she instructed, tugging at the bottom of his shirt.  He obeyed, helping her yank it over his head. She dropped it on the floor without a second glance, hands smoothing over his chest and up his neck to his jaw, where she threaded her fingers through his beard.  He hadn’t intended to keep growing it, but the wasteland didn’t exactly provide a whole lot of opportunity for grooming or vanity.

    “I like this,” Curie said, as if she’d read his mind. “You look so... _ masculine. _ ”

    “I’ll keep it just for you, then,” he answered, kissing her again.  She hummed again, that happy little noise that reminded him of a cat purring.  Her hands wandered back down to his chest, brushing over his collection of scars until she reached his waistband.  She slipped one small, delicate hand inside and he flinched.

    “Sorry,” he muttered as she pulled back, but she shook her head.

    “Tell me what is okay.”

    Nate shifted, evening his breaths to slow his jumping heart.  No one had touched those scars, not even Nora.

    “Keep -- keep doing that,” he breathed.  Curie nodded and pressed a hand to his chest, pushing him back onto the mattress.  He let her, lying flat as she straddled him, arousal and anxiety battling for space in his chest.

    Curie moved slowly, almost agonizingly so, undoing the button and zipper of his pants and sliding them down his hips, moving her own position to make it easier.  The scars still burned when touched, dozens of small gashes spread along his stomach and the tops of his thighs, some spreading around to his lower back and buttocks.  Shrapnel from his destroyed power armor, the smaller pieces that hadn’t managed to do life-threatening damage.

    “May I?” Curie asked, pulling his jeans down a bit further to where what was left of his right leg ended.  He nodded stiffly and Curie shifted, shimmying his pants all the way off and dropping them on the floor with his shirt.  He closed his eyes and then she was touching him, one warm hand on the remnant of his leg, the prosthesis slipped off and pushed aside.  Her hand lingered for a bare moment and then moved, sliding over his thigh and up to his softened erection. He sucked in a sharp breath and heard her laugh softly.

    “Do you like when I touch you?”

    Nate let out a shaky half-laugh. “Yeah,” he said, voice thin as her small hands moved in sinful patterns up and down his shaft. 

    “I like touching you,” Curie replied, mouth skimming his hips and stomach.  He pushed himself up on his forearms and reached for her, desperate to kiss her again but trying hard not to paw at her.

    She let him pull her close this time, lips crushed together, all hesitation gone.  He slipped a hand up the back of her shirt, feeling the delicate bones of her spine up to her shoulders.  She was so thin, small and delicate, that it made him suddenly afraid he was manhandling her. His Nora had been petite statured, but she’d never let go of her dancer’s body, all lean muscle and agility that enjoyed getting a bit rough in the heat of the moment.

    He had to stop thinking of his wife and comparing the two, he scolded himself as Curie pressed her whole body against his.  Nora was gone and buried and it wasn’t fair to either of them to let memories and present activities mix.

    “Oh, Nathaniel,” Curie breathed against his mouth, “Your touch...it is...all I can think about is your hands on me, everywhere…”

    “Happy to oblige,” Nate panted back and she shifted, backside moving against his lap in a way that made heat coil in his gut.

    “I -- I was planning to…” Curie replied, sitting up a bit as her breaths came in short, heavy pants. “I wanted to put  _ you _ at ease…”

    “Curie, I’m doing amazing,” Nate said.  He reached for her shirt and she let him this time, slipping it off over her head without fiddling around with buttons.  The bra underneath was quick to follow, joining the pile on the floor. He palmed her breasts, gently at first, and she gasped, a sharp little sound, before placing her hands over his and throwing her head back.

    “Is...is it normal for the breasts -- to -- to be this sensitive?” she gasped, voice high and breathless.  Nate smiled and kissed her breastbone.

    “Everyone is different,” he said, “It’s also your first time.”

    She nodded, squirming as he thumbed a nipple lightly. “Can we…?”

    He waited for her to finish but she didn’t, cheeks coloring.

    “Can we what, beautiful?” he asked.  He stopped his ministrations on her breast to give her a moment to think, but she gave a little noise of irritation and squeezed his hand.

    “I did not ask you to stop.”

    He laughed against her chest. “Tell me what you want, Curie.”   


    “Can we...can we stay in this position?” she breathed, “I know that...that missionary is traditional, but I -- I like this…”   


    “We can do whatever you want,” Nate told her, brushing his fingers through her hair, grown out a bit and somehow still soft despite their treks through the wastes. “Whatever you want, beautiful.”   


    She hummed, leaning down to kiss him, arms looped around his neck possessively. “I knew that humans enjoyed sexual intercourse,” she said in between kisses, “But I did not think the physical sensations -- that they would be this overwhelming.  Or that my emotions would run so wild.”

    Nate grunted in agreement, tugging at the zipper of her jeans and then scooting them down a round, perfectly heart-shaped backside.  She moved, awkwardly attempting to help him, cheeks bright red. 

    “This body is not nimble,” she complained, but Nate just smiled and kissed her throat, holding her to him with one arm as they finagled her out of the last of her clothes.

    “It might not be nimble, but it’s beautiful,” he said, pressing kisses along her collarbones and sliding his hands down her sides.  She smiled, taking his face in her hands again, and he paused.

    “Do you want to do this?” he asked, “I won’t be upset if you say no.”

    She tilted her head. “You would not be disappointed with me?”

    “Disappointed in general,” he answered, doing his best to be honest with her. “And -- well -- this would require taking care of myself, but --”

    She lifted her eyebrows at him slyly. “Oh?”

    “But I wouldn’t be disappointed with  _ you _ ,” he said, “I won’t ever be disappointed in you.”

    She nodded slowly, as if thinking.  He swallowed a lump in his throat and waited.  It took more brain power than he felt like he had to wait, but sex or no sex, he’d let his emotions rule once before and it had driven a wedge between him and the love of his life.  If he was lucky enough to get a second chance in life  _ and _ love, he was going to do it right this time.

    “Yes,” she said after a moment, “I want to do this.”

    Nate kissed her, feeling like he should say something but unable to think what.  Curie shifted against him, warm and wet and  _ shit _ , if they didn’t resolve this soon the lack of blood flow to his brain was going to cause permanent damage.

    “Will you help me?” she whispered in his ear.  He nodded wordlessly and leaned back, reaching between them.  Curie gasped and let her head drop against his shoulder when he pressed against her.  She shifted, trying to press down, and he turned and kissed her ear.

    “Go slowly,” he murmured, “It can hurt at first.”   


    She squeezed her arms around him. “Mmm, it does not hurt,” she said, “It feels...oh!”

    “Do you like that spot?” 

    “Yes!” she moaned against his shoulder, “Yes, Nathaniel -- do that more.”   


    He panted into her ear, gripping her hips and bucking into her a bit.  She moaned again, grip tightening, and rocked her hips, picking up the rhythm easily as they moved together.  She wasn’t quiet, moaning and crying his name, and it wasn’t long before white began to cloud the edges of his vision.  She dug her nails into his back, moving faster, snapping her hips hard, and suddenly she stiffened and let out a long, drawn-out moan.  Nate felt the muscles in her leg tighten and twitch, squeezed around his hips. He pulled her closer, pushed on by her spasms, and as she was panting a stream of nonsensical French exclamations, he came, falling back onto one arm.  Spots danced in front his eyes and sweat rolled down his chest, the aches and pains of earlier forgotten as his world tilted off its axis for a moment. 

    When his brain started working again, he realized he was holding Curie to him in a crushing grip.  He sucked in a deep breath and let go, afraid suddenly that he’d bruised her. She didn’t seem hurt, however, lifting her head off his shoulder with a pink-cheeked grin.

    “My love,” she whispered, petting his sweat-damp hair. “Oh, Nathaniel.  You are amazing.”

    Still breathless, he smiled. “You’re not half bad yourself.”

    She kissed him, a gentle peck. “I know you are teasing me,” she said, “I can feel your heart.  It is racing.”   


    Nate nodded and she laid her head on his chest as he fell back onto the bed, sluggish and sated as his heart continued its furious pace.  He placed an arm over her, feeling the goosebumps along her damp skin. They lied like that for several long minutes, sweat prickling between them.  After a bit, Nate shifted so they were facing each other. Curie was still smiling, eyes bright as she snuggled into his arms contentedly.

    “I take it you liked it?”   


    “To say the least,” she replied, “This convergence of emotion and physical stimulus...I can see why humans enjoy it so.”   


    He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “I love you, Curie.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was from a Tumblr kiss prompt given to me by the lovely Ariejul. Obviously went farther than kissing. ;-) And if you're wondering about my series, I haven't abandoned it. It will get finished! Just had to take a break from longer projects for a bit.


End file.
